Welcome back to this tale. God Help You.
Modern Jesus by
Portugal The Man
Katheeeeee-na was what The Little Lion Man Joey would call her…
She
was
Well…
She had been my...
Star.
She was the One.
I lost her.
That, my friend, was my fault.
QUEEN
OF
THE
DESERT
HOPE
An exploded cabin knocked us the fuck down. It roared with vehemence. We punk bastards needed to regroup.
It was time to get the fuck out.
A mighty steed with blue flames for a mane sped towards us
with a ghost hearse in tow, and I felt like I was gonna die.
Fuck that shit.
I shouted orders.
“Get that fat bastard up!
Put him in the back of the big truck and tie him down! We getting out NOW!”
Time to go.
Gawdamn.
Tellesco squeezed his big arm around the throat of the giant
punk until that bastard sunk back down.
He screamed at us. It was rare to
hear him sound like that.
He said, “Get some rope!
No, wait, get some wires!”
I ran to the big truck and opened up a panel. There were many panels, and this one did not
have wire inside it.
The next one did not either, but there was a tool belt.
In one of its pouches I found a pair of dikes. That is a proper name for a large pair of
pliers that are strong enough to cut large strands of wire, or ten-penny nails,
or even wood screws, but it is easier to say, “A pair of dikes.”
I wrapped the tool belt about my waist and buckled it, and
scrambled to the next panel.
I opened it and pulled it down to find long drawers full
of wire caps and fasteners and such and
I knew I was getting close to the wire.
In the middle part of this side of the truck, I found
several coils of wire, and pulled out some ten-gauge four, which simply means
that it was very strong and also covered in plastic.
Didn’t want to hurt the big baby that Tellesco held down.
I ran from the truck and looked over my shoulder at the
approaching front.
The blue blade across the horizon gleamed brighter in the
dark light as it neared.
I remembered something.
The following words are from here:
http://williesthestories.blogspot.com/2013/05/tfw-ch-14-iron-mettle.html
He put his hat back on his head and said, “No, son, you done
had them visions. You seen things that are true. You ain’t dreamt a
thing.”
I shook my head. I said, “I was lost in the
desert. I was buried up to my waist. I was left behind.”
Glinty said, “That’s all up for grabs. Only thing I
know is this: Them dream things are fears. Consternations.
Worriment. That’s what the lady folk do to pass the time. Now,
Visions are another sort of thing. You have to find the difference
between the two, boy. Ya see, we men, we fighters, well, we got to face
them fears head on.”
That there, my friend, showed to me the chink in the armor of The Glinty.
I thought about two ladies.
One had died in the ocean, and one had died in the desert.
Both had come back.
One showed me the way.
And one had such anger that she could freeze a room when she walked in.
I thought that this old cowboy preacher should meet them. It was obvious that he hadn't.
Maybe he would.
Well, it was obvious that he’d met at least one of them women.
You see, that old cowboy preacher witnessed his weakness, and then he recognized it, and then he
overcame it.
Perhaps I would need to do that as well.
I would have to make amends to my anger at
Tellesco.
I would have to make peace with bailing on Katheena.
Dayam was that a lot of work to do in a short time.
But it looked liked it was work that needed to be done.
Ya know.
You should also know why The LGinty needed us to have to deal with that angry punk rocker.
Jerry hated the Glinty because they had different perspectives:
The punk rocker had a purple mohawk because he was a Purple
Robe.
How fucked up was that?
(To Be Continued)
God Help You.
God Help Us All.
---willies out
It’s About Time by
Young The Giant
.
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